


i missed you, us.

by passionslipsaway



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Light Smut, Post-Canon Fix-It, parents!orphydice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28335600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/passionslipsaway/pseuds/passionslipsaway
Summary: After returning from Hadestown for good, Eurydice spends time with her Orpheus and their child.Set in grifterandtheif's Ophelia-verse! (and written as a holiday present).
Relationships: Eurydice/Orpheus (Hadestown)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	i missed you, us.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [grifterandthief](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grifterandthief/gifts).



> I LOVE Annika (grifterandtheif) and I LOVE her Ophelia-verse so I had to write something for it!!!
> 
> I'm not great at angst so this is a lil over the top at some points. Sorry!!

“Orpheus, she won’t… she won’t go down!” Eurydice cried in frustration, holding her daughter in her arms. It was mid-afternoon, and Ophelia was long overdue for a nap. It had been quite a busy day for the small family, between breakfast together, a walk through the wooded area behind their home, and a trip to the market. Ophelia should have been tired by now. She used to sleep through half of the day, back in Hadestown, Eurydice remembered.

Eurydice was rocking her back and forth like she always did in an attempt to calm the child, but instead, another terrible wail sounded throughout the small cottage she and Orpheus now shared. Frustrated, Eurydice yelped, “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong! I—”

Orpheus quickly rushed to her side, holding out his arms so that his wife would pass their baby to him. “Hey, it’s alright, let’s see…” he whispered, both to Eurydice and to the small child between them. Did you give her the bottle?”

Eurydice shook her head, tears already forming in the corners of her eyes to match the ones streaming down her daughter’s cheeks.

“She usually goes down after a bottle,” Orpheus explained. He held Ophelia close to his chest as the child continued to fuss. Quickly, Orpheus grabbed a bottle full of milk from the kitchen counter that he had heated in advance earlier that afternoon. “There, there, Sweet Girl,” he cooed, leading the bottle close to her mouth until she finally found it and began to quiet down as she drank, the warm milk soothing her at last.

“That’s it,” Orpheus sighed, clearly relieved. “You’re just a hungry girl, that’s all.”

Eurydice relaxed, but only a bit as she sank in one of the dining chairs. She had only been back in Orpheus’—their—home for a few days, but she already felt so lost, especially when it came to how to take care of their daughter.

She had Ophelia in Hadestown; discovered she was pregnant and given birth to her there, but had only had her for a few short months until she was faced with the impossible decision give her up and let her grow up in the world of the living or remain in the underworld. She had chosen the former, and so Ophelia had gone to live with her father, Orpheus, Eurydice’s lover and, as of recently, husband. It was a miracle Ophelia had been born alive in the first place, and Eurydice didn’t want to tempt the fates any further by keeping her among the dead souls of Hadestown. The child had been on the surface for at least a year and a half, growing and changing and living her young life while Eurydice was trapped down below.

Or so it was until that spring, when, only through the mercy of Hades, Eurydice had been allowed to return to the mortal world for good, to marry Orpheus properly and start their life together. Neither of them fully understood what had inspired the change of heart in the God of the Dead—though both strongly suspected it had something to do with his wife, Persephone—and at this point, neither of them truly cared, not now that they were together. It had been a wellspring of emotion ever since Eurydice had returned on the train that Spring—the thrill of seeing each other again for the first time, the grief that came with acknowledging their time apart, the wonder of, at last, loving their daughter together. The couple had been trying to make the most of their time together, but the rift created in the time they spent apart clouded almost every day they spent together.

“You know her so well,” Eurydice mumbled from her spot at the kitchen table while Orpheus fed their child. She folded her arms over her chest and tucked her feet underneath the legs of the chair, feeling useless.

Orpheus glanced between Ophelia and Eurydice. He sighed. “She’s just particular about when she’s fed. I know she misses her Mama. She was so thrilled to see you at the train stop, remember?”

Eurydice did remember. Stepping off the train from Hadestown and breathing in the world of the living felt like taking the first gulp of air after being held underwater for some long amount of time. But that was nothing compared to the way Orpheus had beamed at her, bright and beautiful, or how her daughter lit up in recognition of her mother. Eurydice was so sure she had forgotten her, but once she took the child into her arms, all the familiarity came back to both of them. Realistically, she knew Ophelia was too young to remember leaving Hadestown, or truly know the difference between her own mother and anyone else, but something told her that their daughter had not forgotten her in the slightest.

Still, she had missed a lot, and readjusting to motherhood was proving harder than she thought it would be.

Orpheus walked towards Eurydice and motioned for her to open her arms, where he placed their baby. Almost instinctually, she brought Ophelia towards her in a comforting embrace. The child was calm, eyes closed, and breathing steadily.

“There, see? She knows you, she was just hungry, is all,” Orpheus smiled.

“Oh,” Eurydice said, stunned and almost overwhelmed at the feeling of her daughter in her arms. Of course, she had held her countless times since returning to the surface, but it almost broke her each time, knowing she had let her go; that she had, at least at one point, committed to never seeing her again.

Ophelia’s eyes opened slightly, then fluttered closed again, and she yawned once more before finally relaxing. Eurydice smiled. “She’s asleep.”

“Yeah,” Orpheus grinned. “It’s nap time, she knows that.”

Eurydice inhaled deeply in her chest, looking down at Ophelia, “She used to just fall asleep, back underground. She slept all the time. Didn’t matter if I was working in the mine or on the factory floor or…” As she trailed off, Eurydice’s smile faltered.

Orpheus hummed in response, nodding. “She was a lot younger, then.”

“Yeah,” Eurydice sighed, not yet looking away from their daughter.

“Let’s put her down,” Orpheus suggested after a moment, “Oh—unless you’d rather hold her—”

“No, no,” Eurydice shook her head, getting ready to stand, “she should be comfortable.”

Together, the two parents lowered Ophelia into the bassinet in the middle of the living room, where after a bit of sleepy fussing, she settled into the blankets arranged for her there. They were the ones she had been sleeping with for months and they smelled familiar, like Orpheus and her mother. Ophelia finally turned over, just before her eyes drifted closed again. From above, both Orpheus and Eurydice gazed at their child, finally sleeping peacefully below them.

Eurydice softened even more at the sight, and whispered, “I’m glad she’s had someone she can rely on.”

Orpheus put his arm around his wife’s waist, drawing her close. “She relied on you too,” he said, softly, the pain within his voice almost imperceptible, “she did, so much, Eurydice. She still does.”

 _But now she has you, and she doesn’t need me, she hardly even knows me_ , Eurydice thought but did not say. She didn’t want to argue with Orpheus right now. More than that, she didn’t want to admit that she’d never forgive herself for leaving her love behind, for giving up the child they’d created together.

Orpheus and Eurydice stood side by side for some time, admiring their sleeping daughter. For a bit, there was nothing but the subtle pulse of breaths, the gentle push and pull between her and her lover—husband. The father of her child. She loved Orpheus—she did then, and she still did.

Eurydice leaned deeper into Orpheus’ embrace and wrapped her arms around her husband’s waist, her cheek coming to rest against his upper arm.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

He felt the warmth of her skin and breath through the fabric of his shirt, her arms secure around him. Orpheus smiled.

“I missed you, too,” he sighed and squeezed Eurydice’s hands within his own where they were clasped over his side. “I missed... this. Us.”

After a moment, Eurydice continued, “I thought of you. All the time.”

Orpheus felt her grip loosen as he turned in her arms to face her. The look Eurydice’s eyes was still gentle but had a new intensity behind it, begging Orpheus to understand the intimacy within her words.

“In the mines, in my room... when I had Ophelia. I thought of you.”

Eurydice’s voice trailed off as she moved her hands from behind Orpheus’ back to skim down his arms. There was a new hardness to his muscles, a new definition there, that she didn’t recognize. Eurydice suspected it was a result a better harvest and hard work in the garden her husband had cultivated out back while she was gone. She hardly minded.

“At first, I thought I might want to forget, that it would hurt less if I just…” she took a trembling breath, “But then I realized I didn’t want to. I couldn’t. Your voice, your hands...” she intertwined their fingers together, willing her tears not to fall. “And then I had Ophelia, and she had your eyes and your smile. Like this piece of you, with me, even there.”

She wished he had beautiful words like Orpheus, that she could tell him how he was all he thought of when the smoke and coal of the underworld coated her lungs, when she’d clutch her belly on the factory floor, when she held their child for the first time. How she missed him through all of it. She only could hope he understood.

“I haven’t stopped thinking of you, Eurydice,” Orpheus said, shaking his head, his eyes even softer than before. “Not since you left, and not since I—” he paused. “I turned.”

Eurydice almost didn’t let him finish before she enveloped him in a deep embrace. She sighed deeply, trying to time her breaths with Orpheus’, and said, “We can’t undo that now.”

“No, we can’t,” Orpheus exhaled. He pulled back, and Eurydice could see the tears that had begun to form in the corners of his eyes. He smiled sadly at her, “But, you’re here now, Eurydice.” He seemed almost amazed at the words as they came out of his mouth. He ran his hands from her arms to her waist, breathless, “You’re here…”

“I am,” she smiled back at him, feeling bits of moisture prick at her own eyes. “Here, with you and Ophelia and…”

I should be happy. Eurydice swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. She couldn’t think like that. She’d just gotten back, just had everything she’d ever wanted, given back to her, safe and warm under the promise of sunshine on the surface. She should be grateful; she should be elated. But she felt numb.  
Eurydice had missed her husband and daughter more than she had the words for. And yet she was anything but settled. She felt ridiculous, on the verge of tears when she had the two loves of her life right here.

After a short moment, Eurydice pushed herself up on her tiptoes and press her mouth to Orpheus’. He seemed startled at first, but almost immediately it turned into something familiar. It had some of the hesitancy of their first kiss from well over a year ago, and much of the passion of the kiss they shared when Eurydice had first returned from the underworld, but there was a new urgency to it.

She steered them away from the bassinet where Ophelia slept, towards their bed, which was really nothing more than a mattress and mess of blankets on the floor. After a few steps, Orpheus backed into the bed. He broke away from the kiss, looking between Eurydice and the bed behind him.

“Do you… do you want to?” Eurydice asked, searching his eyes for any hesitancy. Both of them were breathing heavily, passionate, and uncertain. Eurydice had only been back for a day or so. They had been busying themselves making sure Ophelia was taken care of and Eurydice was comfortable in their old home; they’d hardly had time to think of anything else--of course, it had occurred to them both, but neither of them particularly wanted to approach the subject outright, not while things still felt so delicate and new.

“Yes! Gods, yes, Eurydice,” Orpheus blurted out, almost incredulous. Did his wife really think he didn’t want her? Didn’t think about her every night? Didn’t touch himself to the thought of her pressed against him? “I’ve missed you an unimaginable amount, more than I can even put into words, and I want nothing more, but…” Orpheus breathed deeply, clearly trying to steady himself, then asked, “Are you sure?”

“I am,” Eurydice said, grinning back up at him. She looked as certain as ever, light beaming through her smile. It reminded Orpheus briefly of the look she had given him before they had gone to walk out of Hadestown. Pure hope.

Orpheus swallowed and nodded. Then, he lowered his head to capture her mouth in his own again.

It wasn’t the first kiss they’d shared since Eurydice had been back up top, but it still took the lovers a minute to sink comfortably into one another. They both started out a bit hesitant, hands skimming over clothes and lips meeting each other clumsily. Orpheus, especially, did not want to force his wife into anything she wasn’t ready for, but Eurydice, eager as ever, moved quickly over Orpheus’ mouth. Her fingers easily traced a path from his shoulder blades to his back, around his abdomen and down between his thighs.

Both of them still standing, Orpheus gasped at the sudden touch and pulled away slightly, laughing. “Ah—slow down a bit, Eurydice, it’s okay.”

“Sorry, I’m just…” Eurydice’s eyes remained closed, and she was breathing heavily. “I missed you a lot.”

Orpheus smiled and moved forward a bit. He pushed a few strands of hair out of her face and behind her ear, letting his fingers brush against her skin. “I can’t tell you what it means to have you here again.”

He moved forward, pressing himself closer to Eurydice, so their bodies were flush together. Between them, Eurydice could feel him already half-hard against her thigh.

“You haven’t changed much,” she giggled, breath fluttering against his cheek.

Orpheus smiled. They were close together, but Eurydice could still see his face tinged with red. Suddenly, then, he surprised her by dragging a hand down from her waist up her thigh. His fingers came to rest between her legs with just enough pressure to make her gasp.

“Neither have you,” he said, grinning against her mouth.

I have, is what Eurydice would have thought, had Orpheus not started stroking his fingers through the fabric of her clothes and swirling his tongue against hers like that. He was teasing her, reminding her of what he could do to drive her crazy. And it was working.

Eurydice sighed deeply, almost moaning. “Orpheus…”

Hearing his name Orpheus pulled back to look at Eurydice, slightly concerned. “Hmm?”

“No just… keep going,” Eurydice said quickly, shaking her head.

Her husband was touching her, holding her, and they were going to make love. She’d wanted this for so long, dreamt of this in her darkest moments. She spent months believing that Orpheus would never touch her again, never hold her underneath the mismatched sheets of their bed, never lay her down and move within her until they were both tense and gasping—and here they were. Eurydice could cry, but she didn’t want to ruin any part of this.

Orpheus obliged her. He kissed down from her mouth, around her jaw, and to her neck. With his hands, he skimmed around her thighs to cup her ass. Then, lifting Eurydice up slightly, he tried to lead both of them back onto the bed, but she didn’t have her legs secured around his back. In a kind of clumsy motion, Eurydice tumbled onto the mattress behind her, Orpheus falling awkwardly on top of her. They both laughed.

“Sorry,” Orpheus breathed into Eurydice’s skin, hiding his face in her neck.

Eurydice giggled and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “It’s okay. Remember the first time?”

Orpheus raised his head to look at her. He was beaming, tracing a finger from her temple down her cheek as he spoke, “Yes, I do. That day in the field, under the late afternoon sun. You looked beautiful, golden.”

Eurydice smiled, blushing even now. “You almost pulled my hair out because your fingers got caught in my feather! And I got grass in my mouth, not to mention the dirt stains…”

As Orpheus would willingly admit, he loved it when she teased him like this. She was laughing, and he laughed along with her.

“But… it was good,” he said. It wasn’t quite a question, but his expression was equal parts hesitant and hopeful.

“Yeah,” Eurydice replied, beaming back up at him. She brought her fingertips to his cheek, mirroring how he was touching her. “It was. Even then. Really good.”

With that, Eurydice surged upward to meet her lover. She covered Orpheus’ mouth with her own and wrapped her legs properly around his waist. It took no time for Orpheus to sink into the kiss now, and he pressed the full weight of himself against Eurydice. Rolling her hips, she could feel his hardness, heavy against her stomach now. She wanted this with him, she did.

Eurydice took the lead and secured her arms around Orpheus’ neck, kissing him harder. He sat them both up, then, and between kisses, he tugged off his suspender straps, bandana, and shirt. Almost immediately, Eurydice’s hands were on his chest. She ran her hands over as much skin as she could and her thumbs lightly teased at his nipples, eliciting a moan from Orpheus. She was trying to take in what she had missed over the last year or so—muscles in places she didn’t remember, a slight firmness where there hadn’t been, but still the same soft to the touch skin and warmth he’d always had. Despite how it might have changed, Orpheus’ body would always be familiar to her; it felt like coming home.

Eurydice soon followed her husband’s example, helping him push down the straps of the dress she was wearing, and then hitch up the hem until, together, they were able to pull the garment over her shoulders.

As soon as the dress was tossed off to the floor beside the mattress, Orpheus paused for a moment. Like Eurydice, Orpheus met the sight of his lover with awe, but he felt a pang of sadness as he looked over her prominent ribs and deep collarbones; skin that was once golden brown was now pale and ashen from the lack of sun, no doubt both products of living and working in Hadestown. He should have been prepared for this, expected it—what else did the think his love would look like coming back from the world of the dead?

Still, knowing that he’d somehow caused this, that it was no one’s fault but his own that Eurydice had fallen prey to that wretched place, made it feel like someone had caught his heart in their fist and was twisting it. To Orpheus, she was his wife, and she was beautiful then and she was beautiful now. Her body had survived near-starvation and the mines of Hadestown; it had given them their child. Orpheus would remain in awe of Eurydice every single day, no matter what she looked like. He only wished she never had to suffer again—or at all.

Eurydice must have caught him staring, no doubt having noticed the concern clear upon his face.

She glanced off to one side, and folded her arms over herself, suddenly self-conscious. “I know. I’m ruined.”

“What?” Orpheus responded, incredulous and shaking his head, both to clear his own thoughts and express his disagreement with her. “No, Eurydice, that isn’t it at all!”

“You’re staring,” she said flatly. Her eyes had gone dark and she seemed far off. He was still underneath her, her straddling him, but she was somewhere else.

“Only because I missed you so much,” Orpheus said quickly. “I—I want to drink in every ounce of being with you that I can now,” He inhaled sharply. “I’m sorry, I just mean that—”

“I know I’m different now,” Eurydice rasped, arms still crossed over her middle. It was clearly not something she wanted to admit. “I’m hardly the girl you were going to marry.”

“No Eurydice, it’s not that,” he sighed. Orpheus did not often get frustrated with her, but she could tell that right now he was upset. “Stop… saying that about yourself,” he huffed. “It’s not true. I love you just the same and I would have waited months, years, for this moment. I’d have waited until we were old and gray, and it would not have made a difference. I just missed you.”

He paused to push a bit of hair behind her ear. Though he did not meet her eyes, his gaze was intent; Orpheus was nothing if not sincere. “If you’ve changed, it doesn’t matter to me. I want to take you all in.”

Eurydice bit her lip to soften a frown, and to bite back the lump in her throat. She knew by all common sense by now she should understand that Orpheus loved and cherished her just as he has since the day they met. But still, there was that fear that he would no longer want her—not just because Hadestown had changed her (though it undeniably had), but because she had left. She’d abandoned him in the middle of winter. They were supposed to hold each other forever…

Orpheus shifted a bit below Eurydice, stirring her out of her thoughts.

Running his hands up the curve of her back, feeling the ridges of her spine beneath the skin, he ventured, hesitantly, “Do you still want to…?”

“Oh—Yes,” she breathed, blinking, and then smiled slightly in spite of herself. “I’m sorry. I’m wasting our time together; it’s already been so short—"

“Eurydice—”

“I mean I’m being ridiculous—” she stammered. “You’re—you’ve let me back into your home, you’re taking care of Ophelia, while you have every right to hate me for leaving you—"

“There’s nothing in this world, Eurydice,” Orpheus said, now looking at her with renewed conviction, “not of gods or men, that could make me love you less.”

Eurydice breathed in sharply and, unable to tame the flood of feelings any longer, choked out a sob. Before she knew it, she had fully collapsed into Orpheus, tears flowing freely down her cheeks as she cried into the skin of his shoulder.

“It’s alright,” Orpheus whispered against her hair, his breath ruffling the strands and tickling her ear. He shifted so that he held her to him with both hands on her shoulder blades as she cried. “You’re alright, ‘Rydice. I’ve got you.”

And Eurydice cried. She cried, and her love rocked them gently side to side, not letting go.

Eventually, when the tears stopped, her breathing evened out, Eurydice pulled back and cupped Orpheus’ face in her hands. She could see now that he had been crying, too.

“Oh, my love,” Eurydice sighed, voice still shaky. “I’m so sorry I ever left you.”

Slowly, she reached out a hand to cup his cheek. Orpheus clasped his hand over hers and turned to kiss her palm.

“I’m sorry I ever gave you a reason to leave,” he said, speaking into the palm of her hand at first. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t save us when it… when it mattered…”

Eurydice inhaled sharply. Orpheus continued: “And I’m sorry you even had to choose to give our daughter up… Ophelia misses you so much, Eurydice, every day. I was never going to let her forget you. I was going to tell her all about you, all about her beautiful mom…”

At those words, Eurydice couldn’t stop more tears from slipping down her cheeks.

“I just got back…” she gasped, almost laughing, despite herself, “we’ve had so little time together… and I feel we’ve only spent it crying or taking care of Ophelia. I don’t know how Persephone and Hades do it every year, honestly. The coming, the leaving…”

Orpheus smiled softly, and traced a thumb down her cheek, wiping away a tear as he did so. “Eurydice, love, we have forever ahead of us.”

She nodded, trying to will away the tears and the sobs, but it just made her want to cry harder. “We do.”

“We don’t have to worry anymore, Love,” Orpheus said. He wasn’t always good at reading people, but Orpheus was especially perceptive. He knew how difficult this was for Eurydice, to know stability and believe it. And she knew how hard it was for him to reconcile her leaving with what she was saying to him now.

Sniffling up the last of her tears, Eurydice said, “It doesn’t feel real.”

Orpheus tilted his head to the side, his mouth a flat line, as if he wanted to agree with her—she was right, it didn’t feel real. It felt like all of this could be ripped away at any moment, making it all the more difficult to feel sure of anything right now. Orpheus reasoned, “You heard Hades. He’s cruel, but he doesn’t lie.”

Eurydice nodded. There was a lump in her throat that stopped her from saying what she wanted to say next. She had half a mind to grab Orpheus and kiss him hard on the mouth, flip them and pull him on top of her, and be done with it all. But, Eurydice wasn’t the impulsive girl she was over a year and a half ago—she had learned to wait, learned to stay. She had to believe what was happening now was real, that it wasn’t going to be torn from her hands the moment she loosened her grip.

In the silence, at last, Orpheus suggested, “We can just go to sleep for now, if you want.”

Eurydice took a deep breath. She remembered when all she wanted was to fall asleep, drift away, like a petal on a stream. Now, she felt wide awake.

“That sounds nice,” she whispered. She let her fingers trail down his bare chest. Hearing him inhale slightly, she smirked. “But, I think I’d like to have you, first.”

Orpheus couldn’t hide the way his eyes lit up at her words, the way his cheeks flushed.

“Are you sure?” he breathed. His chest moved against the tips of her fingers with his breaths, his skin warm underneath hers.

Unable to stop herself from smiling, as well, Eurydice nodded and pulled her lover into her.

It wasn’t long before Orpheus’ mouth was on Eurydice’s chest, pushing down the thin camisole she wore under her dress. Not wanting to waste the moment, Eurydice tore off the piece of clothing, and in almost the same motion, backed away from Orpheus so she could do the same with her underwear. Once that was discarded too, Eurydice settled back into her husband’s lap, flicking her dark hair back over her shoulder.

“Well?” she gasped, pressing herself flush against his bare chest.

Orpheus answered by rejoining their lips, kissing harder this time. Eurydice didn’t try to hide her eagerness—neither of them did—as she switched their positions and pulled Orpheus on top of her.

For the first time in months, it was quiet in her head, as she and Orpheus moved together, making the most of this time with one another.

It was soft, with none of the frantic eagerness of their first few times, but all of the passion. They knew each other, knew just where to go. They didn’t have to rush. They had time enough and time to spare.

Afterward, when their breathing had evened out and they were sore and spent, when Orpheus and Eurydice were a jumble of limbs and heartbeats under the mismatched covers of their bed, it was quiet.

At last, their moment was soon cut short by an urgent cry from Ophelia, who had just woken up from her nap and was more than ready to be fed again. Orpheus brought her and a bottle to their bed, where Eurydice nursed her, and together, they admired the daughter, taking in the sight of her, happy and healthy, warm and safe.

“She has your eyes,” Eurydice said, finally. “One of the first things I noticed about her.”

“Yeah?” Orpheus breathed, looking down at the child between them. For a moment, Ophelia opened her eyes, blinking slowly. She was already getting sleepy again, he could tell, but underneath her dark lashes, there were soft hazel eyes, just like his. “I suppose she does.”

Eurydice exhaled. “She was my little piece of you, down there. She made sure I didn’t forget. Not that I would have, not that I wanted to…”

Listening, Orpheus gently smoothed his hand over the wispy strands of dark hair on Ophelia’s head. She might have had Orpheus’ eyes, but she was the spitting image of her mother, otherwise. Eurydice quieted.

“Now she has both of us,” Orpheus whispered at last. “And we have each other; we’re a family.”

Eurydice smiled, bigger than she had in a while. “I suppose we are.”

Ophelia would never know what either of her parents went through to put their family back together, nor would she remember her time in Hadestown, not until she was much older, not until her parents told her how she came into this world.

It was her life, it was theirs, as difficult and wonderful as it was. And they wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

**Author's Note:**

> im waitformereprise on tumblr!! come yell at me about hadestown anytime.


End file.
